


Wrapped up in our own reverie, Inside this cabin by the Sea

by YasminMarie99



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: F/M, zoenne on holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-20 00:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22174348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YasminMarie99/pseuds/YasminMarie99
Summary: The first time they visit Normandy, it is in the weeks following Zoë’s 17th birthday. They have just gotten back together and decide to go away for a weekend. The only criteria were that it was driving distance from Antwerp, cheap and that it was just the two of them. Zoë, loving the simplicity of nature and France, suggested Normandy and Senne readily agreed.In which Zoë and Senne go on holidays. Set in early Spring 2020, after their (hopeful) reunion. Mindless fluff
Relationships: Zoë Loockx/Senne De Smet, zoenne
Kudos: 27





	Wrapped up in our own reverie, Inside this cabin by the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired heavily by the song 'they stay down deep' by Giselle Rosselli.

The first time they visit Normandy, it is in the weeks following Zoë’s 17th birthday. They have just gotten back together and decide to go away for a weekend. The only criteria were that it was driving distance from Antwerp, cheap and that it was just the two of them. Zoë, loving the simplicity of nature and France, suggested Normandy and Senne readily agreed.

It is a beautiful part of the world, he recognises, all wild beaches and cold seas. The cottage that they have rented is small and windswept, a million miles away from Zoë’s previous home in an expensive flat in central Paris or Senne’s cold, minimalist penthouse. The old landlady that meets them at the door has probably been here since before World War II and doesn’t speak a word of English but she pats their cheeks and garbles away in French with Zoë. Senne, despite studying the language for much of his life, can barely understand it but he loves listening to Zoë speaking it, the soft words and flowing sentences sounding so different from their native Flemish. She leaves them with directions to the nearest village and they decide to explore what is their little home for the next few days.

The cottage is tiny, with it’s two small bedrooms, a living and kitchen area and a small bathroom, it is beautiful but far more rustic than he is used to. The views are incredible, the windows capture in their frames rolling hills and a small rugged beach with its wild sea where he can see a squall forming over the channel. Nothing else matters though when Zoë slides her hands up his back, under his shirt and presses a kiss to the nape of his neck. He spins her around, catching her lips with his in a bruising kiss and pulls her onto the bed beneath him. They kiss lazily for a few moments until it becomes more heated and Senne can feel Zoë gasping beneath him, their bodies beginning to move together in that oh so familiar dance.

“Senne” she groans in between kisses, sliding her hands from his hair to his chest. “We should get up, go and do something…” she trails off as he nips at her neck softly, soothing it with a wet kiss.

“You don’t really want to do that” Senne murmurs into her skin.

Big mistake. Stubbornness back in full force Zoë glares at him. “Yes, I do.”

She doesn’t. He knows she doesn’t, he can feel it, feel her holding back, just to prove him wrong of course. He bites back a groan. “No, you don’t, I know you don’t Zo, come on.”

Mischief dances in her dark eyes. “Prove it then”.

He does.

***

Hours later, when they’ve peeled themselves off of each other and climbed back into their clothes they decide to explore the local village and buy food to placate their rumbling stomachs. Clouds loom ominously above them but it thankfully remains dry. They forego Senne’s car for woolly jumpers, raincoats and hardy boots and entangle their hands together to help ease the biting sting of the constant wind.

The walk in companionable silence, content to simply be in the presence of each other. Then, reaching the top of a hill, they stand for a moment, taking in the view. Senne’s as much of a city child as Zoë but he can appreciate the breathtaking beauty of this countryside, all rolling hills and steep cliffs, and a dotting of villages and houses which break up the sheer greenness of the land surrounding them. He stands and stares in awe. Zoë squeezes his hand and he knows she feels it too.

They make their way into the village, the first thing visible is the town hall with its little statue of _La Marianne _and a monument to the Wars in front of it. Down the street, he spots a little church, a small bakery and butcher shop as well as a little supermarket and a pub. They decide to enter the pub, mostly for fear of the darkening clouds above them. Lucky they are, he can hear raindrops almost immediately after they enter. It is small, quaint and clearly a local hotspot. They wander to the booths and sit before Zoë offers to go and see if they have any food and to get them drinks. Senne watches as she chats politely to the barwoman in near-perfect French, despite not having lived in the country for a few years. She returns in a minute, “She said she would see what she could rustle up for us.”__

__Senne nods in return and hooks his ankle around hers, clasping her hand in his. They had always been an affectionate couple but since getting back together, the need to be touching her, to be _near _her, had increased tenfold. It didn’t seem to bother her. If anything, she seemed to feel the same way.___ _

____They sit and talk until their food arrives. It isn’t much but it is hot and it fills their bellies. They sit awhile then, basking in each other’s company until the rain stops. Leaving quietly, they thank the kindly barwoman on the way out, she calls something in response which Zoë loosely translates as ‘come again!’._ _ _ _

____The walk home is peaceful, the smell of fresh rain mingles with that of sea salt and earth. Zoë points out the daffodils trying to push through the undergrowth and Senne smiles at her softly, drawing her into his chest. They stop at the same hill as before and marvel at the coastline. It’s beautiful and unmarred and it is staggering to think that years ago troops landed here to fight a war, that this landscape was subject to tragedy and suffering and death. Zoë squeezes his hand and smiles at him. “Let’s get home before the rain starts up again.”_ _ _ _

____He smiles back and they chat and laugh as they make their way down the hill and back into the cottage. When they enter, the cottage is chilly, Senne goes to light the fire whilst Zoë changes into pyjamas. As he finishes he hears the rain again, looking out the window into the fading sunlight he sees stormy waves and blackening skies. They settle in for the night, sat together on the sofa in front of the fire, Zoë curled up at his side, a book settled on her lap. He scrolls through his phone aimlessly, occasionally laughing at a particularly funny post. They talk about everything and nothing and occasionally exchange aimless kisses and warm glances, but for the most part they are happy to bask in each others company. Hours later, when the storm that was raging outside calms to high winds and the fire has retreated to glowing embers, Senne feels Zoë drift to sleep in his arms, her book still resting on her knees. He moves her slightly, freeing his arm and then earmarking the book and leaving it on a nearby table. Then he lifts her up as gently as he can and makes his way into the bedroom, tucking her into bed before climbing in himself. Almost unconsciously he shifts closer to her. She does the same in her sleep until they are entangled together, faces buried into each other in lieu of pillows or sheets._ _ _ _

____Senne smiles slightly and presses a kiss into her hair. Here, in this little cottage by the sea, the rest of the world feels very far away. Like it was just him and Zoë in their own bubble, far from school and university and friends and parties, just them and their love. Zoë nudges ever closer to him and Senne lets himself be lulled into slumber to the sound of her soft breathing and the ever-present roar of the sea._ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed!


End file.
